smile was open-hearted. “That’s a good sign.”
He drew in a deep breath, feeling better about the situation. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Pellea calls me Kimmee.”
“Then I shall do the same.” He didn’t offer his own name and wondered if she knew who he was. He doubted it. Pellea wouldn’t be that reckless, would she?
“I’ve been here for a couple of hours now,” he told her. “Pellea has seen me. We’ve been chatting, going over old times.”
Kimmee grinned. “Delightful.”
He smiled back, but added a warning look. “I’m sure you don’t talk about your mistress’s assignations to others.”
“Of course not,” she said brightly. “I only wish she had a few.”
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, giving him a sly look. “You’re the only one I know of.”
He laughed. She had said the one thing that would warm his heart and she probably knew it, but it made him happy anyway.
“You’re not trying to tell me your mistress has no suitors, are you?” he teased skeptically.
“Oh, no, of course not. But she generally scorns them all.”
He looked at her levelly. “Even Leonardo?” he asked.
She hesitated, obviously reluctant to give her candid opinion on that score. He let her off the hook with a shrug.
“Never mind. I know she’s promised to him at this point.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I just don’t accept it.”
She nodded. “Good,” she whispered softly, then shook her head as though wishing she hadn’t spoken. Turning away, she reached for the ball gown hanging in front of the wardrobe. “I just came by to check that the gown was properly hung and wrinkle-free,” she said, smoothing the skirt a bit. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I can’t wait to see her dancing in this,” Kimmee added.
“Neither can I,” he murmured, and at the same time, an idea came to him. He frowned, wondering if he should trust thoughts spurred on by his overwhelming desire for all things Pellea. It was a crazy idea, but the more he mulled it over, the more he realized it could serve more than one purpose and fit into much of what he hoped to accomplish. So why not give it a try?
He studied the pretty maid for a moment, trying to evaluate just how much he dared depend on her. Her eyes sparkled in a way that made him wonder how a fun-loving girl like this would keep such a secret. He knew he had better be prepared to deal with the fallout, should there be any. After all, he didn’t have much choice. Either he would tie her up and gag her and throw her into a closet, or he would appeal to her better nature.
“Tell me, Kimmee, do you love your mistress?”
“Oh, yes.” Kimmee smiled. “She’s my best friend. We’ve been mates since we were five years old.”
He nodded, frowning thoughtfully. “Then you’ll keep a secret,” he said. “A secret that could get me killed if you reveal it.”
Her eyes widened and she went very still. “Of course.”
His own gaze was hard and assessing as he pinned her with it. “You swear on your honor?”
She shook her head, looking completely earnest. “I swear on my honor. I swear on my life. I swear on my…”
He held a hand up. “I get the idea, Kimmee. You really mean it. So I’m going to trust you.”
She waited, wide-eyed.
He looked into her face, his own deadly serious.
“I want to go to the ball.”
“Oh, sir!” She threw her hands up to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness! Where? How?”
“That’s where you come in. Find me a costume and a nice, secure mask.” He cocked an eyebrow and smiled at her. “Can you do that?”
“Impossible,” she cried. “Simply impossible.” But a smile was beginning to tease the corners of her mouth. “Well, maybe.” She thought a moment longer, then smiled impishly. “It would be fun, wouldn’t it?”
He grinned at her.
“Will you want a sword?” she asked, her enthusiasm growing by leaps and bounds.
He grimaced. “I think not. It might be too tempting to use it on Leonardo.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, nodding wisely.
He got a real kick out of her. She was so ready to join in on his plans and at the same time, she seemed to be thoroughly loyal to the mistress she considered her best friend. It was a helpful combination to work with.
He lifted his head, looking at the ball gown and thinking of how it would look with his favorite woman filling it out in all the right places. “All I want to do is go to the ball and dance with Pellea.”
“How romantic,” Kimmee said, sighing. Then her gaze sharpened as she realized what he might be describing. “You mean…?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Secretly. I want to surprise Pellea.”
Kimmee gave a bubbling laugh, obviously delighted with the concept. “I think Leonardo will be even more surprised.”
He shook his head and gave her a warning look. “That is something I’ll have to guard against.”
She sighed. “I understand. But it would be fun to see his face.”
He frowned, wondering if he was letting her get a little too much into this.
“See what you can do,” he said. “But don’t forget. If Leonardo finds out…” He drew his finger across his throat like a knife and made a cutting sound. “I’ll be dead and Pellea will be in big trouble.”
She shook her head, eyes wide and sincere. “You can count on me, sir. And as for the costume…” She put her hand over her heart. “I’ll do my best.”
Pellea returned a half hour later, bristling with determination.
“I’ve brought you something to eat,” she said, handing him a neatly wrapped, grilled chicken leg and a small loaf of artisan bread. He was sitting at a small table near her fountain, looking for all the world like a Parisian playboy at a sidewalk café. “And I’ve brought you news.”
“News, huh? Let me guess.” He put his hand to his forehead as though taking transmissions from space. “Leonardo has decided to join the national ballet and forget all about this crazy marriage stuff. Am I right?”
She glared at him. “I’m warning you,
